Our Little Secret
by velja
Summary: Continuation of my story "A New Generation". It starts with the same scene from Thomas' POV. He tells little George the good news, and other things. Mr Bates gets under Thomas' skin (as always). And George is being absolutely cute (also as always). So, nothing really new here.


**Our Little Secret**

 _This is a continuation of "A New Generation" but it's not absolutely necessary to have read that first. It helps, though, I should think. I'm almost sure that there will be more stories after this one, so you could say this is the start of a series. Written in Thomas' POV.  
_

* * *

Thomas Barrow had no sense of how long he'd been minding the champagne table now. It could have been hours or mere minutes for all that he knew. His mind was a jumbled mess and everything seemed to blur and blend together.

There was only one thing he was certain of at the moment. He was feeling happier than he could recall ever being. His lordship had asked him to come back! He was allowed to come back and work at Downton again. As butler! Alongside Mr Carson, sure, but he'd be a proper butler for the family one day.

Thomas didn't mind that Mr Carson would continue to oversee things for the time being. Truth was, even if nothing were to change and he'd stay under-butler for the rest of his life… Thomas couldn't be any happier.

The past three months had opened his eyes to a truth he'd been too blind or too proud to see. Downton was his home, had been so for a long time, and he'd missed it terribly. He'd even found himself missing Mr Molesley's mindless chatter and Mr Bates' dry comments! Not that he'd ever admit to it, mind you.

But, yes. He'd realized only after he'd left how much he truly cared for Downton and its people (upstairs or down). And now he was allowed to come back!

Again Thomas felt a broad smile threaten to spread across his face and he tried, for the umpteenth time since Lord Grantham had announced his decision, to suppress it. He tried to hold on to his expression of composed professionalism but it was a battle he'd lost several times already, he knew. He didn't care.

Why shouldn't he smile and be happy? This was a wedding after all! He was allowed to look happy, even if the real reason for him wasn't Lady Edith finally being happily married to a marquis.

Oh, he was happy for her, mind you. Lady Edith had had tough times to endure in the past and she of all people deserved some happiness.

But so did he, right? Thomas had learned early on to look out for himself and his luck above all else. Otherwise he'd never have survived. And now he felt like his efforts had finally begun to pay off.

Thomas suddenly felt parched. He'd doled out champagne to everyone but himself all evening. And wasn't he here as a guest? So, he was allowed a drink, wasn't he? He poured himself a glass and took a good sip.

But he couldn't help but cast a furtive glance about to see if anyone had taken offence or even noticed. That's when he suddenly saw his lordship come his way. And, huh? Was he carrying Master George in his arms?

A sudden happy glow made it down Thomas' throat to settle in his stomach and he had to suppress a smile once again. He swiftly wrote it off as an effect of the champagne he'd downed too quickly. He was certainly not feeling all warm and fuzzy because he'd just realized he'd be working for Master George again soon. Certainly not!

Lord Grantham approached the table and Thomas inclined his head politely. "My lord." Then he let his gaze travel to the child. "Hello Master George."

"Mr Barrow!" George squirmed in his lordship's arms and before Thomas knew what was happening he had a wriggling bundle of warmth and flailing limbs pushed against his chest. Stunned, Thomas took the boy and settled him on his hip. He could feel Master George's tiny hands fastening around his neck. He threw a quick glance at his lordship, afraid to be reproached for this display of over-familiarity with the future Earl of Grantham. But, well, what was he supposed to do? Lord Grantham had all but thrown the boy into his arms; he couldn't very well let him tumble to the ground now, could he?

His lordship tried to hide a smile and Thomas dared to relax. All seemed well.

"I'm afraid I'll have to bother you again, Barrow, when you're here as a guest. But would you find Nanny and make sure that this little runaway gets tucked away in bed where he belongs?"

"Certainly, my lord," Thomas knew he was smiling but he couldn't seem to stop it. "It's no bother."

"Good." His lordship nodded and turned to leave but then he threw a look back. "Oh, and Barrow? Perhaps you could ease the boy's mind on the way?"

Thomas felt his brow furrow. What was he talking about? "My lord?"

"Go on, tell him the good news." Lord Grantham took a step closer and his gaze, when it skimmed over Master George, became soft. "He's missed you terribly these past three months, Barrow. Perhaps after you've told him he'll actually manage to fall asleep in peace."

"Oh!" His lordship was asking him to tell Master George that he'd be coming back? Before the rest of the house was told? Really? "Of course. Thank you, my lord."

"What good news?" Master George bit his lips and Thomas felt the hands around his neck tighten to get his attention. "What news?"

But Thomas was far too busy staring at his lordship. Could he really mean it? As far as he knew, nobody but Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, Lady Mary and his lordship himself knew about the changes to staff that were about to come. Should he really be telling Master George, before Lady Grantham or anyone else was informed?

Thomas searched Lord Grantham's face and saw nothing but gentleness there. He seemed to really mean it then. He nodded and his lordship nodded back. "Now go on, before Nanny has a heart attack or comes screaming blue murder. Or before our George here bursts with curiosity."

Thomas finally looked at the child in his arms. He'd tell him the news, but not here. "Shall we go up, Master George?"

"What news?" He pouted adoringly. "Please tell me, Mr Barrow."

With one last look at his lordship's retreating form Thomas turned and walked over to the staircase. The boy seemed to slowly slip from his grasp and he quickly hoisted him up again. He was heavier than Thomas had thought possible. But then again, he'd never before carried him like this for so long, had he?

"Well, Master George," Thomas finally began when he was halfway up the stairs. "You see, it looks like I'll be coming back to Downton soon."

"You are here now," Master George observed very correctly and Thomas had to suppress a snort. Right, looked like he'd have to speak more plainly then. He was dealing with a child after all.

"Today I'm here as a guest for your aunt's wedding," he explained. "I meant I'll be back working here again soon."

"Like, you're back? Every day?" George's eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Shht, not so loud." Thomas ducked his head and at the same time tried to escape the death grip the boy was suddenly having on his neck. "Really. Lord Grantham has asked me to come back and work here again."

"So I can see you always? Like before?"

"Yes," Thomas grinned and, suddenly feeling very playful, added in a stage whisper: "But it's a secret for now. You cannot tell anyone, Master George. Promise?"

The boy lifted a hand off Thomas' neck and held up two fingers as if swearing an oath. "I promise."

Thomas had no idea where George had picked up the gesture but he found it incredibly cute. The boy was beaming at him as if he'd just got the best Christmas gift ever and then, suddenly exhausted beyond measure, laid his small head to rest on Thomas' shoulder. His eyes closed but the smile never left his childish face. Thomas fleetingly wondered how he'd come to deserve such loyalty and trust.

He'd always got on well with children in general, true, and he liked children. But the bond Master George seemed to have developed with him was something special, Thomas knew. He vowed there and then, on the last step of the stairs, that he'd try not to disappoint the young boy. He'd try to never give George any reason not to trust him.

Thomas stepped onto the gallery and turned left. He threw a look down, expecting the child to have fallen asleep, and was surprised to find big brown eyes staring back at him.

"Aren't you tired, Master George?"

The boy worried his lip and then shook his head. "Can I see the new baby?"

"What?" Thomas' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now?"

George shrugged. "Anna is in Mommy's room, with the new baby and Mr Bates. Can we go see it?"

"I'm afraid it's a bit late for a visit, Master George. Anna must be very tired, and I'm sure the baby is sleeping as well. I'm told babies do little else." Thomas had to bite his tongue to stop blurting out even more nonsense. What was wrong with him? He shouldn't be talking to Master George like this! Had the one glass of champagne addled his brains so much?

George giggled, then pouted. "But Mr Bates is in there. Why is he allowed?"

"Well," Thomas chuckled. "He's the father."

"Oh." George fell silent and seemed to contemplate this. Thomas went on carrying him along the gallery, glad that he'd escaped that particular road of questioning for now. Just when they were passing Lady Mary's bedroom, the door opened and Mr Bates stepped out. He stopped short of Thomas and eyed him suspiciously.

"Thomas? What are you doing here?"

Thomas drew himself up to his full height and, as always irritated by the casual use of his first name, threw back haughtily: "I was asked by his lordship to see Master George back to the nursery."

He couldn't help it; Mr Bates always managed to get under his skin and bring out the worst in him. He fully expected the man to talk back at him, and Mr Bates already drew a breath, but then Master George's small voice beat him to it.

"Mr Bates, can I see the new baby?"

Bates' eyes flew to the boy. "Tomorrow. The baby is sleeping now, Master George." Bates' relaxed chuckle grated on Thomas' nerves but he held himself back. Instead he shared a look with Master George and rolled his eyes as if to say 'See? Told you so. Babies are boring.' George seemed to get his meaning because he let out an irritated sigh. But then a thought seemed to strike him and he sat up in Thomas' arms.

"Is it a boy?"

"Yes, it is. I have a son." Bates couldn't have sounded any prouder if he tried, and Thomas felt a wave of envy hit. The man got everything Thomas wanted and could never have! It just wasn't bloody fair! Unconscious of doing so, his hands tightened around the small boy in his arms and he pressed Master George close to his chest. Well, at least he had the friendship of this one.

"What is his name?" George wanted to know. Thomas was curious as well, but they were both disappointed. Bates refused to tell, claiming he and Anna hadn't decided yet. "We'll tell everyone tomorrow."

"Is he my cousin like Sybbie and Marigold? Will he play with us? Because then I'm no longer the only boy."

Thomas and Mr Bates shared a surprised look that spoke volumes. Then Bates voiced what had been on the tip of Thomas' tongue as well. "Who said that Miss Marigold was your cousin?"

"Nobody," George shrugged promptly. "Why? Is she not?"

Thomas bit his lip and waited for Bates' answer. "Well," the man started and then dared to look at Thomas for help. When nothing of the sort came, for Thomas was certainly not saying anything on that matter, Bates simply let it go and answered George's other questions instead.

"He is not your cousin, Master George, but of course you'll be able to play with my son when he's a bit older. We cannot have the boys be outnumbered indefinitely, can we?"

Thomas thought that perhaps his lordship or Lady Mary would have a different opinion on that. They'd certainly not allow the future Earl to play with the servants' children, would they?

And what was it to him anyway? Why was he thinking about it at all? It didn't matter one way or another (apart from the fact that it clearly mattered to Master George, who was now smiling brightly at Mr Bates).

"Well," Thomas drew a deep breath and hoisted the boy up on his hip. "As fascinating as this is, I think it's high time I took Master George to the nursery. Nanny will be worried sick."

"Then don't let me keep you, Thomas," Bates smirked. Then his smile turned friendlier. "Goodnight, Master George."

"Goodnight Mr Bates," George waved at him over Thomas' shoulder. Then his eyes snapped back to Thomas. "Thomas?"

Thomas didn't know if it was a question or an address, but no matter what, he shook his head and let out a small sigh. "You shouldn't be calling me that, Master George."

"Why not? Isn't it your name?"

"It is but…" Thomas sighed again. Bloody Mr Bates and his disrespect. "It wouldn't be appropriate." He realized, seeing Master George's nose scrunch up in confusion, that the boy didn't understand. "It would not be right for you to use my first name. I am a servant. And I'm sure neither your mother nor your grandfather would like it very much."

"But you said you're my friend." Master George's lower lip trembled suddenly. "Are you not my friend anymore?"

Thomas stopped walking at once. He lifted the boy up in front of him and looked him straight in the eyes. "I am your friend, Master George. I will always be your friend, no matter what you call me. Do you understand?"

George nodded solemnly. "I do, Mr Barrow."

Thomas placed the boy on his hip again and resumed walking. He didn't miss the crestfallen look on the child's face and, feeling something settle heavily in his stomach, he finally sighed and whispered in the boy's ear. "I suppose it would be alright for you to call me Thomas when no one is listening. But only then, do you hear me? No one must know."

George nodded. "It's our secret, Thomas. Like the other thing."

The other thing? Oh, right, the other secret they'd shared earlier. How could he have forgotten already? Thomas shook his head in wonder. Then he opened the door to the nursery and stepped inside.

Nanny was beyond ecstatic. She'd searched high and low for the young Master and had almost collapsed with worry. Thomas managed to calm her down swiftly. He also managed to have Master George fall asleep in peace, just like his lordship had known he would.

When Thomas left the nursery half an hour later, he was wearing a broad smile that even the jibe Mr Bates threw at him on his way downstairs ("Still here, Thomas?") couldn't diminish.

'Yes, I'm still here,' Thomas thought to himself. 'And there's no place I'd rather be. I'm home.'


End file.
